THIRTY
Portland burned for a week while Oliver filled his days and nights with excesses of alcohol and the Blue. Oliver never left his darkened home in the shadow of the St. Johns Bridge, as Zippy or Josiah personally delivered several baggies of the substances Oliver craved every day and every night in an unsuccessful effort to numb himself from yet another heartrending loss.
The dilapidated house was cluttered with pizza boxes, food refuse, clothing and photographs strewn on the floor. Unwashed dishes piled in the moldy sink. The lights rarely illuminated day or night, as Oliver buried his pain into his addiction.
Oliver lay on a sofa in the middle of the cluttered living room, waiting for Zippy’s arrival. He checked his phone for any hint of where his connection was located in th
